BRIAN TEARE
As if from Letters of Surveyor Samuel Maclay
(Spring, 1790)
sent
for you last week dogwoods
a swansong white flowers
on
whitewater weather continues
~
cloudy but little rain intelligence
with
its attendant circumstances
embarrasses me much no word
~
from
something to do patience
exhausted dear shaved myself
and
then returned the word
~
pluvial the maple a map
of
the river's tributaries rinsed
glistening province of inquiry
~
my
black nets set past cattails
dredge drawn up leaves
alluvium grasp
and clatter
~
of crawfish all hunger
could
gather this morning I saw
a deer fording the river
~
to
a small island I felt unable to work
full proof having nothing
the
mind destroys everything careful
~
the world is
the
river brims first the few
roads go
~
under but
this is a letter weather
the shine of water on nouns
let
it be remembered
~
I made a plum pudding
in
a bag as fine a one as I ever ate
this with a dish of tea
~
concluded
the month of May obliged
to spend the morning baking
bread things I
admire their industry
~
water folds the arms
of
a host of brown coats shine worn
whitely into each elbow
~
I
write I fancy I hear canoe poles
returning this not only keeps me
uneasy
for the moment but in pain
~
in
consequence as I am in want
of word I imagine your letter corn
stubble
troubling the flood fields
~
no geese riding the river's stir
and
fervor what you sweep from
the porch pine needles berry
~
stains click
of seed husks things
birds leave I leave you too
and
send what facts I can sunken road
~
refracted bent branch made heavy
with
wet black bark a clot of leaves flood
plain and waterline my loneliness
~
a
season when the bank's given the river
rising everything it had here I am
in
country unsettled without either
~
canoe or horse a field remarkable
for
the great number of bones found
in it I write to report
~
they
all appear in good humor
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